Twisted Fate
by Darkaus
Summary: What would happen if the Witch King was not slain on the battle field outside Minas Tirith? ...shall we find out?I Own nothing, nothing at all...yes... Dedicated to FrodoFreak88
1. Default Chapter

Almost hypnotized the Witch king watched the shield maiden draw back her sword. _No man… no man can slay…_

As the blade drew near the helm, and the entire of the field seemed to watched and hold its breath, the small hobbit trembled as he felt his grip on the dagger slipping. Time stood still.

Like a bolt of lightning the blade tore free.

A shriek of pain and rage, the dark captain whirled about, falling barely far enough bellow the blade that it struck his helm, and the clang of the metals echoed into the silence. Then, like a clock winding back up time resumed its normal course. Another fell beast bore down upon them, one massive wing buffeting both Maiden and hobbit to the dirt as Khamul pulled the Witch King into the saddle and off the ground.

"Eowyn! Eowyn! Are you well?" Merry crawled to where the shield maiden lay stunned, her eyes distant and glassy, the fragments of her sword strewn about her…

_Kh-Khamul…_ The hiss was faint. The wraith Lord squirmed in the saddle much as an eel would on the shore, and it took all the Easterling's prowess to keep him from falling. (_Indur is the better flyer, but too far off… I am needed on the battlefield… this, this will be a blow to the warriors… to the Orcs…) _With a strong hand he held the other as still as he could be held, for the wound burned like fire, and to those such as the nine the feel of fire was unbearable…

…another fell cry a distance off, Khamul turned his head to see Indur bearing down upon the Rohan with a fury like the Eyes, his beast's froth splashing onto his kills. The shrieks of the Wraiths pushed horror into all hearts, this was personal now, this was revenge.

The wind carried them higher as it filled the fell beasts wings, and their course turned towards Mordor. (_We fly there, near the eye of our lord… for when distant we heal slowly.) Can you hear me Murazor?_ There came no reply, the eyes within the helm had shut, and the frosty hiss that answered him was weakened. The ground drew up as beast and riders plummeted down…

Upon the walls of Minas Tirith Gandalf closed his eyes, murmured under his breath as he felt the hobbit tug on his robe. "Disaster Gandalf! Madness and disaster! They fly near the ground now, and part the troops like water!" The wizard opened his eyes, a sadness in them that Pippin had not seen before.

"I know my friend, I know… we took a gamble when she struck at the Witch King. Had it only succeeded… but now the rest have blood in their eyes." The sound of trolls assaulting the gates bellow sent a shudder threw the city. "I fear we may not stand till morning…"


	2. Chapter One

The sky darkened in Mordor, the fell beast called out to the ear that they had returned, and Khamul steered towards the tower with a sure hand. Murazor was quiet now… the rip behind his knee had torn wider as time had passed. His breaths had lost their frost. They swooped above the black gates, the fell beast's cries causing the great trolls of Mordor to pause in respect, or fear.

In the distance the Eye's flame seared across thousands of Orcs encamped within its lands. The beam dashed suddenly to the beast in the sky, narrowing in anger that only the Nine could see, and feel. Khamul hissed as the vapor that composed most of his being was burned, peeling and curling back on itself till his arms were no more than translucent bone, dripping with evaporating lines of burning dark blood.  
His cry was wordless, not of hate but of sorrow that he had caused his lord rage, what meant his pain if it appeased his master? But he could not stop the shriek that forced itself inot being as the burns continued to spread.

_My Lord! My Captain is wounded! We did not retreat, Forgive me! My master…_

The heat had faded, Sauron's fire now warm instead of scalding swept over them both in the ghost of a caress. He turned its full attention to the one that now lay gasping in Khamul's arms. The Witch King had not been spared the heat, and his form beneath the robe gave of the smell of old, burning death.

The fell beast landed on the dais before the Eye, lowering itself so that those mounted could step down. Shakily, Khamul released its reigns and stepped on trembling knees to the ground. _My lord… the battle goes well, the king of Rohan is slain, and perhaps his daughter as well, for I felt the black breath upon her…_ He was rewarded with a faint glimmer of approval from the Maia, but it faded quickly as the Eye felt the wound on its Dark Captain.  
The sound of a door opening forced Khamul to raise his head. There stood The Mouth of Sauron, wordless before him. He moved forward quickly and knelt beside the fallen wraith, an angry sigh hissed from between his lips.

"The wound is deeper than it appears, it has breached his core… However it is, repairable."

Khamul hissed angrily, _…If that be so… than repair it… he is needed for the field saw him fall, we must restore the troops confidence soon in their captain._

The Mouth toned duly, "Perhaps you need your moral boosted as well? You aren't yourself this day Easterling."

A hiss from the Witch King's form drew their attention, Murazor winced, his eyes were dim within the iron helm. The hiss grew louder as the fallen wraith pushed himself into a crouch. Khamul reached out to assist, but stopped when the other regained his feet. _(It would be a blow to his pride… to receive help when it was unneeded…) _With weak, joint locked steps, the Lord of the Nazgul walked until he reached the platforms end. He sank to his knees, head bowed in shame.

Khamul felt their lord reach out to his Captain, speaking to him softly in a voice only used for those that were honored with his words. _( I am not one of these… I could be, I have done more for our cause than most, if it was not for I, Murazor would probably have never encountered…)_ The Eye was upon him, once more the heat threatened to burn,

**_He is mine! _**The Eye flashed brighter than the sun**_. Without you, he would still be mine! I hold him_!**  
The booming hiss ripped like steel through his core, Khamul collapsed with a shriek, form twitching helplessly in the palm of his Lord's power.

_Forgive me! Hyyaaassssss! My lord! Forgive!_

The convulsions eased and the shrieks died in his throat as the Eye's power withdrew, and the part of him that always knew his lords wishes seemed to whisper to him…

… Have I ever not?


	3. Chapter Two

**Boom,…Boom,…Boom,…Boom!**

There came a great crashing from the gates, Grond's head of steel tore threw the wood and into the soldiers who stood braced behind it. High above the Nazgul calls stirred the troops to press onward, forcing the warriors of Minas Tirith to either flee or fall to the sword. A fell cry and the shouts of men foretold the white wizards end; bloodied talons raked the cobbles, the fell beast's eyes burned with fire. Proud upon its back with the rage of a glacier thawed Indur threw back his hood and shrieked to the stars, echoed by the other six that swarmed about the city like a plague.

The guards of the citadel were scattered as the trolls of Mordor ripped the white tree to splinters. Standing silent on ones back Adunaphel drew back the bowstring, aimed…  
The streets filled with Orcs, the people within slain, on the field the horn of Rohan nor Gondor blew.  
How to describe the slaughter of so many, the agony of the men unable to protect their city, their lives, the fear of the woman who draw back into corners only to meet their death crushed against the walls, the tears of a child who has seen an Orc skewer a parent, no future have they… and shortly after, no breath. Loved ones, family, homes and lives… all are lost… lost to the Eye.

So a Silence… silence thick as blood flowed over the ground. Even the Orcs were still, forms twitching in wonder, confusion, fear, and where is the foe? Where did all these dead come from? Where are the armies that stood before us not a moment ago? The roofs are set aflame, Minas Tirith glows ember as the sun flees from the sky.

It seemed the sun must set…

On the field of battle stained, spears like spines in skyward pose…

The shields lye cracked… their metals maimed…

As those who wielded them, the fallen lye in flame…

A silent scream, from the butchered beast's throat,

The Rohan's emblem broken…

And looming in the smoke, their wings of darkness woven…

The fell beast cry doth pierce the sky… the dead have spoken…

We are lost… we are lost…

_(Oh lord… look around us, see they did fall, remember… remember why I fought here for you, I have kept my bargain…) _Indur landed his beast before the army of Mordor, still standing frozen in disbelief, and throwing his hood back upon his head he raised his blade and cried, _The field is won! Gondor and Rohan fall to the Eye!_

…It started small, building in the throats of thousands before bursting free in a triumphant roar that shook the crumbling walls of the ringed city. The cries of triumph from the foul horde seemed to blacken the very skies above that already themselves were falling, into darkness…

**Within the walls of Mordor**

Khamul raised his head, eyes lighting at the wave of pleasure his lord sent forth to his Nine.

Curious he rose to his feet, and moved through the blackened hallways of the dark tower to the summit. The Mouth turned when he entered, though as he was not dressed for war he did not bother to open the door. Instead he slipped past like the black breath itself, and stood before the other with barely reined in loathing.

…_Why is he so pleased… has the battle turned for the better..? _

The Mouth grinned, "Better than that Easterling, the field is won! The city was captured by Mordor's champion." Khamul hissed, eyes burning in the dark. _(And so once again… while I am away… that pathetic excuse for a captain steals my glory!) _The Mouth turned serious, his expression hidden by the helm he wore, but the Ringwraith could sense his unease. "Have the spells held, or is he in need of further assistance?"

The Easterling sighed low in his craw. _He is healing… he will not allow me near, and do not go to him… I sense you wish to do so. He will slay thee if you speak with him now…_

The Mouth of Sauron paused, "He will not allow you near?"

Khamul hissed, eyes burning in a slow boiling anger. _Like I…he did not wish to leave the battle. This absence has cost him his victory, (And mine) and he is not pleased to have been shamed in front of the hosts of Mordor by a "Woman". _

There came a hiss from behind, Murazor stood, unguarded save for his sword and gauntlets, his black robes blowing freely without the armor underneath. He gave Khamul a glare that would crack stone. Instantly Khamul retreated slightly, not wanting to challenge. He knew well enough what the result would be were he to fight his leader, and a shudder swept down the already fringed form to remind him of the emotion of fear.

However the other did not strike him, nor show any further acknowledgement of him, but kneeled low before the eye. The dark one must have spoken, for it seemed the sag in his captains shoulders filled, and when he raised his head there was purpose in his eyes, with a bow he rose and walked to the edge of the summit, without hesitation he stepped into the air. In an instant a beast was billow him, screeching out a cry as if to reprimand the wraith lord for not waiting. Then they were gone like a foul wind, vanishing over the walls of Mordor and leaving not but frost behind.

…_Where does he go? Has the eye sent him forth?_

The Mouth nodded, his back now to the wraith. "Indeed, he is on an assignment now, as our lord has forgiven him his recent …and rather embarrassing failure."

The wraith perked with interest. _…And, this assignment would be?_ The Mouth turned, and his eyes seemed to chuckle like burning coals as they set your home ablaze.

"It seems there is an heir of Isiludur alive, at least,

until he is found…"


	4. Chapter Three

The army paused, the dead floated about the king of Gondor. Aragorn sat as if dead himself in the saddle, his eyes wide, almost lost.

"There was once a city… carved upon that rock… it can't be gone…it cannot be gone! Ha!" The horse screamed bellow him, galloping over the smoldering fields, the dead following behind silent as a fog rolling through. Behind Legolas and Gimli exchanged glances, and Gimli winced at the dread in the elf's eyes. They followed close behind, and stopped beside Aragorn before the shattered gates of Minas Tirith. The horses refused to go farther, wise enough to know that none still lived within the inferno that had once been the greatest remaining city in middle earth.

The army behind stood silent, they seemed unaffected, though each one was weeping inside. Were they damned still? Having run first, and been too late the second? Aragorn shivered, his shoulders shook. Almost timidly Legolas reached out, gently laying a hand upon the others shoulder. Aragorn threw it of; whirling in the saddle so that Legolas saw it was not sorrow that shook him, but a burning rage. "WE RIDE TO MORDOR! TO SAURON'S LANDS!" The fire from the fallen city cast a burning glow upon its fallen king, "TO MORDOR! AND FROM THERE, TO HELL ITSELF!"

… … …

Indur turned his head, slowly, the folds of cloth blowing in the wind atop the peak of the mountain. A hiss… the beast below him chomped at its bit, spines running along its back raising with temper. It shrieked, wanting to fly, disliking the extreme heat bellow it, but the wraith held it still. _(…what is this, another army… an army like us….)_ bellow the grey mist of fallen men faded into the distance, heading towards Mordor, to the Eye._ (Perhaps this is why I was bid to remain… to follow this group and its leader, the fools… they do not see the field is already won…)_ he released its head, and silently the fell beast spread its wings and took to the skies, following the strange army, but slowly, very slowly. They didn't want to scare any of them off, after all.

Within the walls of Mordor

Frodo and Samwise were still as statues, how could they not be? If you had yourself trekked the paths they had taken I doubt you would still be alive. But they were more than alive, they were alive and sane. That is a statement to the endurance of hobbits. Samwise raised his head, looking over the ridge in horror and dread. "Orcs Mr. Frodo, miles and miles of Orcs… I see men to, and not friendly looking ones at that, Oh!" Sam ducked down as a troll passed by almost close enough to trip on them. Frodo looked at him, exhaustion plain as the dirt and grime that stained his face.

"They're everywhere Sam… how will we get across? Why should we even try… I feel it Sam… the war is already over…"

Samwise wrapped his arms around the other, "Not yet Mr. Frodo! Not yet. As long as he doesn't get that ring the war isn't over, and once it's destroyed, we win! We cannot give up now! We've come too far…"  
Once again both fell silent as something passed dangerously close to where they hid, sting glowed softly in its scabbard. "We must get moving though, at this rate I fear we'll be trod upon!" Frodo nodded weakly, vacantly getting to his feet and allowing Sam to lead him through the shadows and further from the many dangers that made Mordor so perilous. The beacon of the Eye swept overhead, and they dove behind a rocky ledge to hide their presence. From in the sky a fell cry sounded, and the Eye turned its attention to the black rider that had called.

Both hobbits breathed a sigh of relief, then turned around and froze. Rows upon rows of huge stalls faced them, each holding a sleeping fell beast, curled on its side in the sand. Samwise gulped deep in his throat, "Maybe we should turn around…" he blinked, looked about him, "Mr. Frodo? Where are you Mr. Frodo!"

Legolas shivered, craning his neck around and holding his bow taunt.

Aragorn did not notice, too consumed in his rage to manage more than the simple act of keeping his horse trotting. Gimli did notice however, and responded in kind by drawing out his ax. "What is It elf, you see something?" Legolas shook his head, irritably moving a strand of hair of his face.

"Nay Gimli, I have seen nothing, but I feel something, and to feel it and not see it unnerves me." Gimli shook his head, eyes scanning their surroundings, then he glanced up, and behind…

"Say Elf, that's an awfully strange looking cloud isn't it?" Legolas looked over his shoulder, his eyes grew wide.

"Oh no…"


	5. Chapter Four

…The heads turned in shock; none had the time to give cry as the fell beast plunged towards them. They had been looking behind, and this one had swept from the fore!

It gave one piercing call; a poor warning for such a beast as it tore into Legolas's horse. The elf crashed to the ground with a startled cry, cut short suddenly as if in mid-word. The fell beast pulled up again, crying out as it vanished into the dark clouds that marred the sky.

"Legolas! Are you well!" Aragorn spurred the charger to where his friend had fallen, and froze in the saddle, mouth agape. The elf was still. His neck arched in a strange manner, more to the side than any neck ought to reach…  
Silently... the heir of Gondor stepped from the saddle, falling beside the other with a wordless cry, arms reaching out desperately until they met cloth and skin. "Legolas! Legolas! Sut! Sut! Mani marte! Amin hiraetha! Legolas! … … ... ...Amin hiraetha…"

Gimli leapt down beside him, pulling the still form from his hands, "No time Aragorn! No time! The fiend is upon us!" Another cry as the beast swooped and grabbed Aragorn's steed by the hind, pulling it into the air only to let it fall practically atop them. Aragorn moved numbly, pulling free his blade with nothing in his heart, or his mind. Gimli shook him, "Aware man! Stay aware! Or they win! We slay Nazgul this night!" The army of dead seemed scattered, confused by the sudden attack, frightened by the aura of the wraith lord, by the rage…

The blade of the king let out a soft ring, and Aragorn's eyes to burned upon the blade reforged. His eyes darkened, his breath grew harsh, and without warning to Gimli he leapt into the saddle of the remaining steed,

"KEEP TOGETHER! TO MORDOR! WE GO TO MORDOR! You must take them Gimli! Lead them against the Dark lord, his riders come for me! Ha!" the horse screamed and galloped from the field and into the fading horizon. A shriek that curdled bone echoed from the sky and the fell beast flailed and plummeted, passing so close above the Army that they could have brushed it, and in many cases did as the mighty wings tore threw the troops as they would air. The dwarf could only stare in something akin to awe as the wraith lord passed above him, his eyes ablaze.

"By the Valar… ride swift Aragorn… he comes for you now…"

-

-

The horse was winding, still he spurred hard. Just make it to the trees, where the creature will be forced to dismount… a shriek from behind fueled his resolve; the horse bellow stumbled, nearly sprawling, its head throne back as a scream of terror and pain burst from the strained neck, heaving sides.  
It finally fell, plunging its rider to the ground. A sickening image of Legolas drew a cry from his throat. He rolled, stopping at the base of a stone that cracked against his back and sent pain shooting through his spine.

…Weakly he rose, hobbling into the cover of the trees, on leg favored. (This cannot slow me down… any injury will mean my death…)

The trees grew thicker the further in he went, making progress increasingly slow, his body aching in protest to the movement. (They dislike water… and fire, if it is directed at them… so I should find a stream, no… bigger than that, I need a river to follow.) A stray branch caught his hair and he cursed, pulling free. ( He is behind me by now… surely…)

Suddenly the woods gave way to a clearing, and in the middle of that clearing the fading light reflected of flowing water. Grateful for this small blessing, he stumbled to the bank, judging if this would serve his purpose as he knelt down and gulped down a swallow.

He did not see the great black wings play off the water as he wiped his face; he did not see the claws spread wide as they came closer and closer toward his back…

Elven Translations:

Sut: How?

Mani marte: What happened?

Amin hiraetha: I'm sorry


	6. Chapter Five

There came a twang from the trees the great beast screeched, whirling about and flapping madly to regain balance. It knocked Aragorn into the water with a wing as it thrashed, an arrow lodged in its throat. Aragorn surfaced with a gasp, stared up at beast and rider, and in a moment was fully immersed in the stream, letting the current pull him away and down. Down into the trees once more.

For a few short seconds there was silence enough for him to regain his nerves, and then it was shattered by two of the voices he wanted to hear most.

"Aragorn! Where are you Aragorn!"

"You better be able to swim!"

"I'm here! Merry! Pippin! I'm here! The two hobbits burst from the low shrubbery, looking a bit the worse for wear. Merry was cut along the cheek, and his eyes seemed older, and Pippin was covered in dirt, his clothing a tad singed. They pulled him from the river, apologizing almost playfully for interrupting his drink.

"You see, we didn't want to bother you, but he did, so we figured you'd rather have us than him!"

"Yes! And besides, we hoped you would be alive long enough to tell us, where the hell have you been!"

Aragorn smiled, pulling them against him, "It seems then I owe you two favors, one for my life, and two for the news that you are both unharmed …but where is Gandalf?" Pippin turned his head away, his entire form sagging and a shallow sob pulled from his throat.

"Gandalf is… he's gone Aragorn, and this time… this time I don't think he's coming back…"

The king lowered his head, "I feared as much… I did not believe he would leave the city…"

Merry looked up from Pippin to Aragorn, "Neither did we! We stayed with the city till the end!" He brandished the bow about in anger, "We stayed on those fields till there was no one left! In fact… I didn't move from where I was until Pip…"

Pippin nodded, " I found him right beside her, holding her hand…"

Aragorn sighed, then paused, "…Her hand? Whose hand? There were women from Minas Tirith fighting?" Merry shook his head.

"Did you think Eowyn wouldn't go into the battle? No, she went, and fought the Witch king himself she did! But she…" He broke of, finding it difficult to speak. Aragorn turned his head away, his eyes distant…

"…So many we have lost this day… Gandalf, Eowyn, I had feared you two as well, then, then Legolas…"

Merry and Pippin looked back up quickly, "Legolas! What happened to!" But Aragorn raised his hand, indicating he did not wish to speak of it, both hobbits fell still… and the last light faded from the sky.

_I hear the Ringwraith crying in the distance…_

_Corrupted and cold, betrayer of old…_

_The forest will burn, and all the stars of night…_

_Will turn their heads… "Let him kill the sun, _

_Our hopes have gone with the light…"_

_Somebody's out in the night… can you feel his stare?_

_Somebody rides through the dark… I see him there…_

_Somebody glides on the winds, you had best beware,_

_Somebody's out there…_

_Somebody's out there…!_

_**Within the walls of Minas Morgul**_

The sound of footsteps roused Khamul from his slumber. He blinked only once, focusing on what had drawn him back from the darker realms. The Eye was distant, not reaching out, and the link that bound him to his brethren was still. How odd… _(No Orc or man would dare invade the black chambers…) _an angry hiss slipped from his jaw, and Khamul threw his robe about him as he pulled his sword from where it rested. _(It is no matter, kill it, make an example of whatever it was, and I will not be bothered again.)_ The blade flickered cruelly as the Black Easterling moved silently down the obsidian hall, his form blending in with the many shadows cast by the city's green glow. From bellow his feet came a familiar rumble, and he paused. _(Perhaps it was just one of the beasts, stirring in its own sleep? That has drawn me back before, and it would explain…)_

Then it slammed into him, he threw back his head, pulled in a deep breath to catch scent, the unmistakable feel of the ring calling to his very core.

_(Here! It is here!)_ With a fell screech he turned and pursued the smell, catching the sound of panting and slapping feet as the ring bearer realized he had been spotted. Another door burst open, Adunaphel lunged into the hall and Khamul gave a silent nod to the other as they sprinted side by side, hissing with pleasure at the feel of the hunt, following the pull of the ring, getting closer, closer…

Both froze, stunned. Before them was but a window, and upon leaning outside there was no sign of anyone having ever been there, the sheer drop would intimidate even the bravest into remaining. _…I will circle back… and rouse the others… try to find it again. _Adunaphel vanished back down the hall.

Khamul hissed angrily, _(so close… it had been so close! And I would only have had to share my triumph with Adunaphel_!) a sound from above drew his attention, and the wraith pulled himself out the window to gaze up at the roof, watching a small form vanish over the top. _(…But perhaps now… the chase and the victory are mine.)_

In the skies Indur followed Gimli and the army toward home.

In the forest, the Witch king was silent, stalking from a distance.

In Mordor, Khamul followed Frodo to Samwise, and Mt. Doom.

And the Eye atop the Black Tower, watched all.


	7. Chapter Six

Adunaphel looked at Dwar, Dwar looked at Akhorahil. They stood together by the window, sniffing the air. _Khamul has gone out this way… why… there is nothing out there… _

Adunaphel nodded, his eyes smoldering, _unless… he saw something, that I did not…_ The other two hissed in irritation, below the black chambers the rumble of the fell beasts as they slumbered disturbed the quiet. _Where… where is Murazor? He has not been with us…_

…

The fell beast chomped its bit, but lay still. It knew from years of experience not to fight its master, after all, the wraith had been the one to ensure it was born. The Ringwraiths controlled the breeding of both the fell beasts and the steeds of Mordor, for they had years of experience with both, and were the only creatures in middle earth that could look at either creature and know what traits were best saved, or best discarded. Trained they were from birth, the first food they received came from the Ringwraith's hand, their first commands, the saddle breaking; all was supervised by the Nine. The only hand they obeyed, and the only voice they listened to.

So the beast did not move when its rider dismounted, it did not trash at the pain in its throat. For it understood that it belonged to the Nine, and the Nine took care of what was theirs. As expected the wraith examined the arrow and the wound. With one hand it pulled off a gauntlet, and placed the flat of its palm against the fell beast's skin. The creature hissed for a moment at the sudden chill but relaxed as the burning pain of the wound was enveloped in the cold. Swift as a breath the Witch King gave the arrow a careful twist, and pulled it free. The beast never felt it leave its skin. Then the hand was removed, and two fingers pressed the broken skin together, sealing it shut by cauterizing it. Now the creature did cry out, but that was alright. The wraiths respected well the power of fire, and there was no punishment for that.

Contented, the creature lay down, sensing its masters will. And the Witch King vanished into the black of the night.

Nothing stirred, nothing dared to breathe as death embodied walked amongst the proud trees. Frost crept over the ground, the air froze, and branches cracked and fell at the sudden arctic chill. Winter followed his steps, the air became frozen itself, turning whitish with the free floating particles of ice. And all was still, save the rhythmic hiss of the wraith lord's breaths as he searched for the illusive rangers scent. Then, something else beckoned. Murazor turned his head, feeling the strange pull at his senses, a feeling of urgency… he turned his head away, the Eye compelling him to continue the search. Several more steps… and then again! Pulling from the shadows, a need more compelling it seemed than that of the Eyes, and at close range, more persistent.

So he turned, and followed the feeling, almost a flowing feeling like water, yet pleasant to a degree. Which seemed wrong to him… for was water, at least the flowing water, a bane to his kind? Regardless of lord or mind he walked, deeper, deeper yet till the woods gave way to sheer blackness…

And there before him, with its surface shining gently, a sliver of silver, twisted almost to be shaped as a mirror, though it had no glass within it, seemed suspended from invisible coils of air. The urgency faded, everything faded, for the first time in a century or more… the mind of the Witch king stirred from its dark depths into a semblance of awareness.

_(…What, what is this… I should not have come here… I was sent to… I was… … … I cannot recall.) _An angry hiss… metal gauntlets letting of a rusty squeak as he clenched his fists. _(I remember my lord sent me… it was important… we are winning the war… I was shamed… this is my chance to redeem myself… what was I seeking?) _Something pulled, gently, urging him towards the frame. The Witch king moved forward, and froze. From the heart of the hanging circlet a red glow had begun, creeping over the frame until it shone blood. Cautiously, he drew back, but could not remove his eyes from what he saw. What was happening…

… for something was happening… and it left him reeling with hate.

…

Aragorn woke, feeling the pull of something from beyond the trees, something feeling Elvin in nature, like the complex protection spell that was woven over Rivendale. But focused, concentrated… "Strider? What is it, your still awake?" he turned his head and met Merry's haunted eyes.

"…It's nothing my friend, its but a dream." Merry nodded, rolling back over so that his back was against Pippins. Aragorn watched them a moment more, then frowned, turning his attention towards the pull. (Whatever it is, it is best to leave it well alone. Some forests have ways of protecting themselves…) an owl hooted, and somewhere a mouse squeaked a protest as its life was cut short. (…I pray that Frodo and Sam have not lost hope… and Gimli may be with them soon, he and the army…) A set line formed on the king's mouth, his eyes gleamed defiantly. (Oh my friends… my friends and companions who have fallen for our cause… your deaths will not be in vain!)


	8. Chapter Seven

The circle filled with red, and began to spin… slowly; rotating as if a great wind blew it, until it filled with light…

He drew back, hissing, turning from the glare that pierced the darkness like a spear, eyes flashing with displeasure, but still he became compelled to return his gaze. And his form grew slack with surprise. There… within the orb, a pair of eyes gazed back upon him. Familiar, like something from another life reaching out to touch the soul, haunting in their intensity. Eyes, like moody slivers of the sea… and the face that bore them smiled sadly back at him before fading away…

Darkness again.

And then the sea, rolling, crashing upon familiar shores. The cry of the gulls in the distance… there were ships upon the tides, drifting within the waters of Numorean lands. _(This place… I have been there, in another time, in another lifetime… I have known those shores…)_ An urge formed deep within, to return to the sea. Old blood stirred back to life longed for it origin, a faded heart woke, and remembered, and regretted… _(I cannot regret, I am my lord's captain! My kind cannot… Oh we can feel sorrow, but it is not the same…)_ The image faded. Almost desperate he reached out, one gauntlet coming to rest against the disk. And now it reforged itself again.

Mordor's mighty mountains struck out at the sky, and the Eye glowed above the Black Tower… the call of his brethren was distant, distant and strained…

There was something different within those walls now, a feeling of emptiness, and wasted years… his brethren rode the currents, fell beasts screeching into the skies. And perhaps for the first time he saw… they were separate from each other… separate even from themselves, lifeless, detached… Then the disk was nothing but darkness, the rotations ceased, it fell still.

…And one image, one image that pierced him stared back upon him. Those eyes, in that face, that he now realized were his own.

_(...Was that ever...I was, I was so free... ... ...)_

**_At the Black Gate._**

Gimli stopped before the gates, ignoring to the best of his ability the encroaching dread that was seeping into his very bones. "All right everyone! Hold steady!" There answered an uneasy shuffling from the army. They were loosing their resolve, their forms drawing back from Mordor's dark pull. Fear, fear of being consumed drove them back, despite the irate dwarf's attempts to steady them and push them forward. From the sky came the call of fell beasts, and the great doors of darkness creaked open…

A lone figure sat atop a strange mount. Perhaps it could have passed for a horse in another life, but there was no chance of that now. Where once a mane might have blown in the wind now a trail of flame burned. And where once the eyes might have set there was now nothing but empty sockets, gaping for eyes. They glowed like a spark in the shadows of the skull.

The figure planted upon its back was still as stone, and black as obsidian. His form was draped similarly to the Nine, but he bore the emblem of the eye upon his arms and chest. And when he spoke his words were simple and few, though they sent a shiver down the Dwarfs spine. _"I, am the mouth of Sauron. I speak our lords mind… and he asks you, why come you to his realms."_ Gimli puffed up his chest.

"I am Gimli! Son of Glóin, and I… we…" Gimli turned, and blanched. The army that had stood behind him moments ago, was gone. There came a soft clomping of hooves, and the beast and rider were upon him. From inside the helm the ghostly eyes shone bright.

"_You, Gimli, son of Glóin, are here to either pledge your alliance to our lord Sauron, or lower your head to accept a swift death."_

…

Aragorn jolted awake, pushing Merry who fell completely atop Pippin. The two irate hobbits squawked and turned to shoot strider a much deserved black look, but paused. Strider had his head bowed, shoulders shivering lightly, and silent tears trailed slowly down the proud jaw. "a… Aragorn? What is it? What's wrong?"

Somewhere in the span of time, another name on the list of the fellowship… was softly crossed out.


	9. Chapter 8

Frodo froze, his heart stopping as the cries of the Nine filled the air. (This feeling…something terrible has happened yet again… even if I succeed, what will be left to save!) Disheartened, the weary hobbit sank to the ground. (There's no point… there's just no point…)

"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo! There you are! We should move quickly! The armies are distracted by something at the gate!" Samwise was beside him, pulling the limp form to its feet. "Common Mr. Frodo! This could be our chance!" There was a fire in the other hobbits eyes, desperation of many months brought to a final peak, and as Frodo met his gaze he felt some of that fire enter his own soul. "We can't give up now! We can't let them down Mr. Frodo!" Tears of desperation, of anticipation, of longing… Frodo raised his head to meet the others gaze as the pearly drops landed upon his brow.

(It always seems hopeless… then something always happens, to bring me back, to force off death itself…) Samwise tugged again, urging the other toward the monster of Mount Doom.

"We can do this Mr. Frodo! We can still do this! I'm with you all the way; it will all be over soon…"

The wraiths call sounded in the distance, the Eye turned its attention away from the gates, searching for something, searching, always searching… (So if we are to cheat death once more, than I cannot lie down… they depend on me still… perhaps, the ones I know and love cannot be spared… but to let their faith in me die, I cannot… I will not!) "Your right Sam, your so often right… it is only a bit further." With the others help the ground was once more below his worn feat, and the two continued up the path to the heart of fire, the Eye passing by, then pausing, and then continuing on again. Just out of sight, Khamul crouched, watching. True, this hunt could be over, the pull to end it was so strong…

But not yet, no, not yet. That would defy his very nature. He would wait, and watch. It was the first time in a long while he had been curious about something… a long time indeed. Besides, he wanted to see what the loathsome creature following the Ring bearer would do.

_(Let Murazor and Indur find their glory on the fields of battle… I have always preferred being the hunter… on my own territory.)_

…

Aragorn trod cautiously, following the stream back to where he had been attacked. Did he really want to go back there? No, no he did not, and was wise enough to understand the numerous reasons not to. But there was no choice, his weapons had landed beside the stream, and he needed to see if the Wraith Lord's beast had been slain.

(Well, that's not a good sign…) The fell beast was curled contently on the soft turf, its long neck bent over the water, drinking, it looked like. (But where is its master? Why abandon a healthy mount?) He whirled, half expecting the wraith to be behind him. There was nothing, not even a breeze disturbed the grass blades. (And now… I am becoming paranoid. That helps me, oh yes, I needed that rather desperately.)

The fell beast raised its head, a growl in the depths of its craw. Merry and Pippin watched it carefully, for truth be told, neither was very fond of the creatures. "Strider, should we let this wait till morning?"

Merry nodded, "We cannot see like them, I dislike the thought of fighting one in the dark."

Aragorn smiled stiffly. "I think you need have no fear of that. Wherever he is, it is not near here." Both hobbits exchanged looks, but said nothing. It had been a bad night for all, and after the incident with his nightmare, neither hobbit wanted to push Strider further.

"Well…" Pippin took a closer look, "I see your sword, and dagger, but, the fell beast appears to be lying on them."

Aragorn cursed softly, eyes locked on the beast intently. "I must retrieve those before I can set out for Mordor…"

Now both hobbits did say something, something that took the form of a loud "You Said Nothing Of Going To Mordor! I'm Coming Too!"

The beast screeched, raising from its haunches and swiping its tail about agitatedly. Aragorn turned to them, his expression, even in the dark, saying very simply 'This is why you're not going to Mordor.' Then without warning Aragorn sprinted through the trees, aimed on avoiding the creatures talons long enough to retrieve his blade. The beast screamed and buffeted at him with its wings, swiveling its head about like a snake ready to strike. One brushed his side, throwing of his pace and sending him tumbling into the dirt. The head shot forward to finish the task, and reared back with a cry, blood running from its chin to its eye. It whipped from side to side, trying to ease the pain.

Aragorn let his dagger drop, reaching swiftly to his sword the pulled it free and silently charged. A long arch, a swipe…

The fell beast collapsed, head rolling to the grass not a foot away. And for a moment Aragorn stood, winded, shaking from the adrenaline and exertion. Then he breathed deep, rolled back his shoulders, and turned to the hobbits. "I know not where the wraith has gone, but he will surely retaliate when he discovers this. I leave now for Mordor, but pray thee, follow another road. I will feel better… if I know at least someone is safe."

The hobbits said nothing, they stood, and their eyes seemed to say yes… though their hearts were screaming no. "Will, will we see you again Strider? Will we, see anyone, again?" Aragorn lowered his head.

"…What would you have me say?"

Nothing is foreseen, at the end of a war

Which side is banished from sight?

Will you be there when the morning has come?

Will you stand tall through the night?

_Where will you lie when the horns have been blown,_

_And the fallen are laid in their sleep_

_Eyes closed, in silence unending._

_Hand crossed their chest, dead yet deep._

When shall my eyes next behold you?

The answer I know you can't tell…

For those are the thoughts of another day born.

_And I may not be there as well,_

Yes, I may not be there as well.


	10. Chapter Nine

The peak of Mt. Doom seemed to be beckoning to them… calling threw the haze and smog of the dark land. Samwise turned his head, making sure the other was still beside him. Frodo returned his gaze only slightly, eyes glazed… face void… "We're nearly there Mr. Frodo, not long now." The other hobbit offered no response; it seemed he was having enough trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

Frodo closed his eyes, (Its getting stronger… the closer we get to the black peak the louder it gets…) he opened his eyes again, seeing Sam look at him in a worried manner. He must have said something, his mouth was moving, but no sound reached his ears. (It's almost like being underwater… deep under… where no one can hear you or you them…) the ring burned like a brand, searing his skin even through the cloth. **_…Remember me… remember us… why do you hate me… am I not perfect…? Am I not what you want, want more than anything else…? I can make this all a memory… keep you safe… keep you safe for all time… make you happy… you will grieve to lose me… do not… do not hurt yourself… trust me… trust me… love me for what I am to you… I will keep you always… I will hold you when not even the trees remember your name… _**

_**Frodo… Frodo…**_

"Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?" Frodo blinked stunned. Sam looked down at him, his expression deeply troubled. "Mr. Frodo?" Frodo nodded, pulling himself back.

"Yes, I'm fine Sam, I'm just fine." High above the cry of fell beasts split the air, echoing off the walls like the wailing of mourners beside a tomb. There came another sound from behind, and both hobbits whirled about, fearing the worst. They did not see from their vantage point the eyes glowing in the darkness. They did not realize until too late, that an Eye far brighter that those of Gollum had spotted them.

…

Aragorn stroked the horse Lords neck, behind him rode others, many others. The wasted remains of many races it seemed, sensing the end at hand they had come… it had been but by chance that he had come upon them when he had turned down the path to Mordor. Men there were, those of Rohan who had missed the great battle, some remaining warriors that had fled when there had been naught left at Minas Tirith to fight for. Dwarfs, more of them it seemed than anything else. And Elves, though incredibly few, rode with them, blades and arrows sharp. No fear of death lurked in their eyes. All had known when they remained behind it was to die. But the bulk were no longer among the living. The dead that had deserted at Mordor had for the most part fled back to their halls. Yet there had been other who it seemed were determined to fight this time, and they had followed when Aragorn had approached.

Shadowfax had been the same, when he had passed the proud creature, mourning the white wizard, he had been overcome. It had comforted him to place his hands on that spirited face, to feel the horse's breath. But when he had turned to continue on Shadowfax had followed, and when he mounted the stallion was agreeable.

In the sky came a shriek as the eagles swept above them. Unbidden, unasked they had come. The death of the white wizard had enraged their lord, and so the great birds flocked, their fight with the Nazgul before all else. There came a call from the back, and an elf rode forward to Aragorn's left side. "Have you ever fought in Mordor before?" Aragorn laughed.

"Not in this life, have you?"

the elf nodded, eyes dark. "Indeed, though I saw little of the real combat, I was there. I warn you, keep your group away from the walls. For against Mordor's mountains is where the Orcs will corner you, and slaughter as you try to break free. It sounds insane I know, but you must try to keep all your sides free."

Aragorn shook his head. "That, is sure suicide. They will outnumber us, and to let them come from all sides will break our ranks in moments."

The elf laughed, "We ride for Mordor, oh king of men! It is all suicide there! But if you are wise, you will heed the word of one who has been there before! Against the walls the rocks are sharp! And you will be impaled from behind even as your enemy comes down upon you! Then they will bring in the trolls! And you will be trapped. Add to that the Nine swooping from above with your forces unable to scatter if need be, no, oh man, the walls of Mordor are where you die."

Another horse drew up beside them, the dwarf upon its back looked unhappy to be there. He huffed gruffly at the elf. "My ancestors fought in Mordor, And I tell you both that they passed down the secrets of how to win! You do not go in by the walls, or by the center! No friends! We must form lines and take to the sides, Split in two! And in two columns we push forward."

The elf turned stunned, "Are you daft? Split our meager force in two! Against the masses of Mordor?"

The dwarf puffed out his chest, "Exactly! One Dwarf is worth a thousand Orcs!"

The elf tossed back his head to scoff, "Oh pray tell? One Elf is worth ten-thousand Orcs! But you do not see me sending those I lead to certain death against such numbers!"

"Ten thousand? You boast shamefully pompous elf! The way to fight for your kind is in the trees where your enemy cannot reach you. And where with your petty arrows you may pick off those you please at leisure! We Dwarfs fight with courage! We go right to the heart of a fight and chop our foe to pieces mere breaths away from their blades! Unlike you, who prefer your foes at least a mile off!" The elf drew back to retaliate but Aragorn shouted them both down.

"**Enough!** We need not Sauron's forces to kill us if we destroy each other! **Stop your bickering**!" Both glared at him, and turned their horses away, returning to where they had rode with their own. Aragorn bowed his head, shaking with frustration, and pain. The wounded leg had begun to act up again, but his grinded his teeth and bore it. (They will both follow their own plans, leaving the other to fend for themselves. And we will be divided before we even pass through the Back gates...)

Shadowfax whinnied below him, tossing his proud head. The sound of thunder reached the forces. All movement ceased, as stared stunned as a cloud of dust began to grow on the horizon. Then whinnies and snorting reached their ears as the herd rose like a wave before them. Rearing, screaming to the stars, eyes alight and hooves striking at the air. The horse lord bellowed, head bobbing and his entire form dancing. The herd came up behind, weaving themselves into the army and stopping. They stood, snorting and tossing their heads, eager to run. And without cue Shadowfax lunged forward, the men followed, the dwarfs, the elves; all mounted were carried away on the wave of living wind that formed the wild horses and steeds of war. And the army moved on.

High in the air, Indur watched as the last forces of middle earth swelled, talons of steel gripping the reigns harshly. _(Where are you Murazor… that you have failed to slay the heir…)_

…

Far off in the forest, old eyes watched the hobbits returning home… and worried at what they would find there. But his attention had to be away from them now, and on the fallen King. The White wizard knew, all to well, what depended on it.


	11. Chapter 10

There was a sound, the soft rustle of trees. Merry and Pippin whirled about in fear, weapons drawn. In almost the same moment both weapons hit the ground. The hobbits stared, stunned, mouths agape… Pippin moved first, reaching out timidly, great tears rolling from reddened eyes. "…G…Gandalf?" Merry seemed frozen in place, unable to stir from where he stood. "You're not… you're not dead! You're not dead!" In an instant both hobbits fell upon the wizard who pulled them close despite his wincing. "But how Gandalf! How! I saw you fall under the fell beast's talons and you didn't stir! Even when I shook you! You didn't stir!"

The wizard smiled, pushing the hobbits of gently. "Indeed, I should not have stirred; the wraith had driven my breath from me. It was lucky that he to soon took me for dead."

Pippin sputtered, "But the blood! The wounds! You were torn to pieces!" Gandalf stared at him.

"…Torn to pieces? I must heal very fast indeed!" Pippin scowled despite his weeping, "Don't jest Gandalf! I saw you! You may as well have been skewered!" Gandalf smiled, but it was a worn smile, empty somehow, hopeless…

"Worry not for me, my friends. There is not the time. Nay, I can tarry with you no longer! Already too much time has passed, and his time runs short as mine. Hear me, do not loose hope. No matter what may come, do not let go. Hold firm, fight, if it can be saved than middle earth will be, if not… let us at least die fighting."

Without another word Gandalf turned and faded. His form passing between their fingers as if… as if he had never been…

…

All stood still in the blackness. The Witch King stood silent. Almost timidly, Murazor stretched out his hand. _Show me again…_ the sharp gauntlet tips scraped the empty plane, watching the blackness ripple like water. And for a moment a form flashed. Desperate he grabbed for it, but it was gone. Hissing the wraith struck out, shattering the fragile glass with his claw, watching as it tinkled to the ground. _From my lord you drew me! In the blackness of a centuries sleep you pulled me forth! Show yourself! No games! No more tricks! Set me free!_ The shriek echoed, bouncing back and almost forcing him to recoil.

"…feeling better lost one?"

She stood radiant before him, Elven, and ancient, and he loathed both. He hissed, pulling forth his blade and raising it in stance. "Hear me, king of Numorean lands long since gone." He shrieked, pulling away from the ringing tones that Elvin tongue, as hateful to him as fire. "In the blood of your people the blood of mine flowed, as there were ties between us once. I call on your old blood, as sure as the sea calls mine."

"The end has come, night has fallen and the last forces of our world run to their fate… soon all will fade, as you faded, and end all. The time for you has come to chose."

The glass floated back to its frame, fussing to a sheet of black. It rippled, and in its depths the sun rose above the shoreline. "Here once you dwelled, and made your oaths to your people. To protect and defend, to honor, and cherish. For you were married to your people by your blood and your oaths…  
Then came the gift giver, the deceiver. Your honor is shattered as the glass you spread a moment before, though I fear not as easily repaired, or forgiven. Now Murazor, King of dust and shadow, see what your lord will do, when the war is won, and the ring, thine." She faded and was gone, his blade slashed through nothingness, hitting ground. The red in his eyes flickered, irritated, weary, and the wound from the old blade burned behind his knee. He whirled, searching the darkness for movement and none rose to face him. Angrily he turned toward the mirror.

_Izg lat iist-... golug…agh ufur- nar iist-…narash tal tab, zamal –izg ufur-…_

_I know you… she elf… and fear you not… there is nothing, that I fear…_

_**Mordor, The Black Gate**_

The gates loomed above them, dark as midnight and sharp as glass. On the walls the nine were mounted, watching the army with burning eyes. Aragorn raised his head as a beast dropped from the dark sky behind them, joining its fellows at the gates. (We have been followed all this way? Why did the eagles not sense it!) The trolls groaned as they pulled the great gates apart, and a helmed figure rode forth to stand before them. Aragorn pulled to the head, the Elf and Dwarf rode forward to stand beside him. Still glaring at each other in fact, and the sight formed a lump in the ranger's throat.

"_I, am the mouth of Sauron. Speak, and be heard."_

Aragorn raised his sword, "We have no need of words this day!" the eagles in the sky screamed, and the fell beasts shrieked their challenge. There came a soft chuckling from the dark ones tongue, he spurred his beast forward, and circled the three leaders for a moment before returning to his place.

"…_I see, a mortal king whose time to rule has ended before beginning, an elf who fled from the Orcs of the gate of Mordor, barely coming before departing, and a Dwarf whose ancestors sold weaponry to Mordor's host in hope of being spared." _Aragorn turned surprised to the ones at his sides. The elf had averted his gaze, the dwarf lowered his head. _"This shall challenge us, break the black gate, climb our tower and extinguish our flame? **We think not!"**_ There came the sound of bows being drawn, and the forces bellow looked up and blanched. Easterlings with bow strings taunt leered down at them, and there came a hiss from the Nine, eager for combat.

High! High! Upon the walls!  
See the spear heads gleam so brightly!  
Listen! The watchman calls!  
These are signs not to take lightly!

Here stand we at the gate of death!  
We shall fight till dawn has broken!  
"_Flee now! Or end your breath!"_  
The Eye of fire's Mouth has spoken!

Do not run! When the arms are raised against you!

Feel no fear, though it seems you cannot win!

We must stand! Until at last the night has fallen!

There can be, greater strength than His within!

Raise your arms!  
Build your walls!  
We will fight till darkness falls!

Show your spears!  
Strike your blows!  
We will stand the Valar knows!

Do not run, Show no fear! We speak hope they cannot hear!

Believe my friends,  
know my foes,  
Not with death shall these men doze!

-Do not run! Have no fear! Ancient hope still lingers here!

In these lives, in our hands,  
rests the fate of all our lands!

Do not run! Show no fear! We will stand! Let them jeer!

Let the eye, show its will…  
…I stand here and blood! Will! Spill!

Like the crashing of the tide the enemies came together, swords and spears flashing, arrows flying and eagles screaming, shields shattered, horses reared and plunged, and man and Orc alike vanished below the hooves. And high above, the Nazgul cried out for blood.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Raise your arms….

Know my foes…

Not with death…

…

The White Wizard watched calmly, yet his fingers clenched with tension. (It was easy at first… breaking into a mind so long dormant… and he's not caught on yet. Who would have believed a wraith so foul could retain such memories… though I am not surprised he tried to shatter them…) On the soft grass before him the wraith lay still, his only movement the gauntlets clenching at his sides. (We have not much time… as it stands Sauron has seen him fail, Aragorn rides to Mordor even now… it will only be a matter of time… I cannot let that happen! This is our last chance.)

He murmured bellow his breath, further weaving the sleep about the wraith's form. (There are catches to magic… foolish are they who believe that it is freely given, or easily wielded, and what I intend to do… at best, I will not survive it… At worst… I know not. Time, is not to be touched. This rule we hold, for to unravel the threads of time can bring forth disaster… yet, when there is no choice, must one not bend the rules?) The sky darkened slightly, the wraith stirred. (Even now, he has won.) Thunder rumbled in the distance, a soft rain began to fall, cooling his brow, washing free some of the dirt, the blood. (They will fall, the eagles and men, the elves and dwarfs, it is too late for them now… and Frodo, he will not reach Mt. Doom. Unless…) His eyes left the sky and returned to the wraith. (Unless history is warped, unless the forces of Gondor defeat the enemy at Pellanor, unless the dark retreats to Mordor for the final assault, unless Khamul never follows Frodo…)

He strengthened the shields to block the dark ones Eye, focusing then on the wraiths troubled dreams, (No, magic is not simple, or safe, and know I must convince this, this fallen one! …I must convince this one to return to the past, and once there, to die. He must fall to Eowyn, to save the future, to change, the past…)

…

There was darkness again, the Wraith Lord paced in silence, enough was enough. He knew the she elf was dead, he had seen her slain! Yet, she was here…  
The mirror flashed, and an inscription at the bottom caught his eye, _(why had I ignored this before… had it been on that sliver when I last… no, it had not…)_ he moved forward, not wanting to get any closer than needed. Slowly he bent, and within the helm eyes widened in shock.

Those who see through this glass, have no soul…

Those who see but their thoughts, have no minds…

Those who see here their memories, they have no hearts…

Those who see _them_ have all three entwined.

A hiss…_(Mockery? Prophesy? What is this!) _The Glass shivered below his fingers, taking shape anew…

…The sound of horses and in the distance the sea… golden sunlight leaps off the water. Sailors and merchants in busy paved streets that sparkle white. Then a sound… a screech, a wail… Shrill and piercing. Dark figures advancing over the water, chaos, people leaping from their boats, running and swimming for their homes. Again comes the cry, two Nazgul circle above, beasts wailing out their death songs. Houses set ablaze… the shoreline lit like a bonfire, and the screaming… the peoples screams…

(" To protect and defend, to honor, and cherish. For you were married to your people by your blood, and your oaths…")  
"Lord Murazor! Help us! Help us!"  
"We can't hold them off my lord! It's as if someone has schooled them in our defenses!"  
"They've breached the gates! We have no choice but retreat my lord! My Lor…"  
"If we remain you have sentenced us all to death!"  
"Murazor! Help me!"  
"I don't know you anymore! I don't know you anymore!"  
"Father… What have you done?"  
"…**Had he lived, he would have sought Vengeance on you. You will thank me in time, My Witch king…"**  
(" And your oaths/and your oaths/and your oaths/and your oaths/and your--")

_Enough! …I have had enough! It is done! Scores upon scores ago it was done! I killed them! Let, it, Die!_

Panting, hissing breaths choked, eyes dim, almost empty _…Let it die. _The wraith sank to his knees, head bowed. And Gandalf watched.

Hope this explains a few things:)


	13. Chapter 12

Khamul raised his head, sensing trouble at the Gates, the sound of armies coming together, the cry of the eagles and his fellows in the sky. No time for that, too close, the hunt, too close… the hobbit had vanished inside the chamber, his companion following, and behind both the strange creature called "Gollum"

Khamul felt the Eye shift, and lock on him in a silent question of why he was not with his brethren. Instantly its complete focus fell on the Ringwraith, feeling the ring close at hand. The other Nine screamed from the gates, sensing their lords fear, and triumph. Fire seared through him, not painful, far from it, blinding in its intensity and heat. He screamed out his lord's challenge, his mind subdued as his lord took full power within.

Sam froze, eyes wide with fear. "Mr. Frodo! I think one of them's behind us! Blocking the door!" The other hobbit didn't respond, his steps did not falter now as he neared the mountains heart.

"Never mind him Sam. He's no threat to me now." Sam shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, and froze.

"…He's, no threat to, us now? Mr. Frodo?" The hobbit turned his head, eyes cold as they gazed upon the faithful friend.

"No Sam, I said me."

…

Aragorn landed on the ground, a sickening crunch followed. Wounded, grasping his still injured leg with new pain he struggled to rise… and fell. Panting, his vision clouding with fatigue, the sounds of the battle were growing faint… with his failing sight he looked down, seeing the black arrow in his side as the world went numb.

The Nazgul called again, the ground below was giving way to the Orcs, the men were turning to flee, the dwarfs following. Adunaphel turned to the others. _None shall leave alive… _They cried out as they descended like darkness into the fray below. Blind panic, the horses threw their riders and retreated, trampling them as they fled. Shadowfax reared, his scream, pain and sorrow to have felt the King fall from his back. He snapped the air, flashed his hooves at the Orcs about him. A black line, woven to be sharp as steel whipped through the air and seized his front feet. It snapped them together, and forced him to the ground with a sharp tug. The Orcs parted and stood silent as the Nazgul dragged the horse across the ground till he rested beside his feet, white coat stained grey from the dust.

Uvatha lowered his form till he could look into the horse's eyes, and laughed.

…

Gandalf closed his eyes, willed the sights and sounds to fade, willed Aragorn's fall to be hidden from him, willed his eyes to close to the fires of Mt. Doom, to Shadowfax's capture. To the cries of so many… (I have not the time now to grieve, I, have not, the time!...) tears fell silenty, (Concentrate you old fool, concentrate or the world is lost!) The wraith was stirring, eyes opening, seeking the current the wizard felt, the current of the battle.

_We, have won… White wizard… it is done._ Gandalf nodded, eyes old, form bent. What a foolish thing is a wizard, when all the light has gone out of him. Just a delusional old man, just a, a fool. Murazor turned his head away, the sight of this emblem of light so defeated; it wounded something deep and hidden away, struggling to surface, to be.

_The world has fallen, and the Valar will not save it. My lord will rule all lands, and under him, I._

Gandalf smiled. "…you are wrong, your lord will rule the lands, but you? You do not even rule yourself." The wraith turned to face him. Gandalf braced, preparing to throw a shield up.

…_I know that well_. Gandalf, paused, something in that voice, regret?  
_It… is too late for my kind wizard. To us… darkness or light, it is all the same. _

"…It does not have to be. I know you heed me not, but listen! For our time, both yours and mine, grows short. Will you help them? Fallen one! Will you raise up your sword for the land once more, as you did when you were new! Sauron will destroy all if he is not hindered, even his own, …he cares not for you, and you know it, don't you." The eyes glowed, but the form did not move. The air grew chill, and the Nazgul hissed…

_You waste the short time that you have left wizard. Go now, and I may claim I did not see you._

_**Mordor, Mount Doom**_

Khamul wound his way through the mountain to its heart, his eyes aglow, alive with his lord's strength. Down and down and down… then, light, light like a million bonfires blinded him for a moment.  
The hobbits stood at the edge of the crevice, staring into the fiery abyss. Then one moved, suddenly, violently pushing the other, and a wail of terror filled the air as the shorter one plunged over the side. The sound lingered, faded, and the fire consumed it whole. The other turned then, his eyes aflame, the ring glowing about his throat. "It is mine! It will always be mine! I bear it!"

Khamul shrieked, and lunged onto the slab of stone, drawing his sword free. The hobbit slid on the ring and appeared as bright as a star before him, his eyes shone like embers. "I have told you… _It Is Mine!"_ the mountain shook, rumbling deep below them like an angry lion. (**_Take it! Take it from him!) _**Khamul lunged with a cry, his sword flashed… and the hobbit stepped away, slicing through his foot with a sword that sang like lightning. Pain shot through him, reeling, he drew back, and in an instant the floor was no longer below him.

…the fires reached up, welcoming him into their searing, vaporizing, arms.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

The Wraiths froze in the air, on the ground, their beasts chaffed the bits. On the field below all sensed their distress, the Orcs grew still, the elves paused, men and Dwarfs ceased to breath. Uvatha raised his head and wailed. Painful to all, even the trolls clogged their ears! The others followed, a ghastly choir, screaming and shrieking, heads thrown back, shaking. The fell beasts landed, eyes rolling and spittle flying as they themselves attempted to pull away. And the Nine upon the field drew together, again they cried, as if calling for something …

...there came no answer...

One by one, they raised their swords, the blades shown with frost. Together they buried them in the ground before them, and knelt, heads bowed. Sauron screamed in the distance, enraged, and the wail rose again from the dark fellowship. If they spoke none heard, it was all blended into the creening wail, but it sounded like, Lost_! Lost! Lost…_

…

Gandalf drew back as the Witch King screamed, rearing back his head, his eyes shut tight.

The mirror spun, an Easterling in his later years swam into view. He had a gentle look, mellowed by time. The image shattered into a wraith in the sky, eyes alight with fire, blade singing through the clouds. Then, all was consumed by fire, a shriek of terror echoed in the darkness, fading into nothing…  
A call of hate, and fear, sorrow and pain, twined into a thread of madness ripped from the wraiths throat. He sank to the ground, eyes still shut tight. And a sound, like a name, escaped tightly pressed lips.

Gandalf dared not move, his staff lay drained not far from him, his hands shook, the hands of an old, mortal man.  
Slowly, Murazor put his feet back under him. He rose, and turned_…(And so the vow never broken, lies shattered… I swore to him… and he I… long ago) T_he sword came free from the sheath. (_We swore on our ancestors, on all middle earth, on the Valar… on our blood!)_ Tightly shut eyes, images of a life lost long ago burst free. _(My land… my home… faded, wasted,)_

_Kha… Khamul… _He shook, his gauntlets sliced his palms. Black seeped down and dripped onto the grass.

_KHAMUL! _He roared, the blade slammed into the dirt. Ice crept from it onto the ground, the temperature plummeted and Gandalf gasped in surprise as his breath frosted.

_Wasted! Your pride! My honor! Stripped! Stolen with a trinket! Bought from us for a ring! All for a ring!_

_I was a king of men! A ruler of Numor! To fade to this? To fall to this? To Die for this?_

The scream tore the skies, hatred, battle lust, burning rage. Then, like the eye of the storm, silence. The mirror rotated, and stopped. Its inscription glowed red.

Those who see through this glass, have no soul…

Those who see but their thoughts, have no minds…

Those who see here their memories, they have no hearts…

Those who see _them_ have all three entwined.

It shattered, the last image fading from its surface, a face torn by the years rotted by time, but with fire in its eyes. And head thrown back, awake at last.


	15. Chapter 14

Eyes like a storm at sea, faded with age, opened clear. The ring upon the wraiths finger burned like a brand and smoke rose from it, The One ring fighting to keep the link strong. The steel of the gauntlet began to melt, and the wraith hissed lightly, an almost detached pain as he watched the band glow.

_No... I am your master, ring of men, cease. Cease. Follow the one whom has worn you since you were forged..._

The brand flashed like the eye, a shriek shattered the calm. The other wraiths feeling him pulling away struggled to hold him. Murazor closed his hand to a fist, and a wail of despair echoed as the Nine relinquished their hold, fading back into the darkness…

…_I do this for us all, my brethren… I have not forsaken you._

The wind about the Witch King and Wizard stirred, the darkness lightened slightly. The sky still mantled by Mordor's rolling clouds rumbled. Gandalf stood silent, his eyes were narrowed. He knew how to deal with the Ringwraiths, but now what was..? The form turned, eyes cold and hard. _Wizard, our time here grows short. And you are yet to say what must be done. He is searching, my ring feels it, and we will shortly be parted once more._

For a moment Gandalf searched those eyes, seeking the man within the monster. The gaze was returned in full, the wraith did not flinch, nor draw back._ Wizard…you try my patience…and that is still very dangerous. _

Gandalf smiled, "…I have no doubt of that, king of Númenór. And time does wane as we speak. Here me well, I cannot guide you on the other side." The wizards eyes grew deep, and Murazor had to shake himself to keep from being captured, pulled into those eyes until nothing remained. "Time is not easily moved, and history reluctantly changed. I can open the door, but you must find your way back from there. It will fight you, do not fool yourself. And should you get through…"

Gandalf paused, "…Should you get through, you must return to the battle of Pelennor, to the field, before you were struck by the maiden of Rohan. And there, king of old …there is where you die."

**Mordor, The Black Gate**

Aragorn grew faintly aware of someone lifting him from the ground, raising his head and pouring water across his lips. He coughed, tried to swallow. There came a voice, soothing, familiar. Aragorn opened his eyes, and froze. "…No…you…why did you…you came back…" The eyes shut, hiding tears.

"There is nothing I can do for you now… the poison has spread." He reached out weakly, grasping a slender, gaunt arm. "I was told…I was told you were passing…Arwen…" a soft hand cupped his cheek, catching the dusty tear.

"…I would not leave you here; it's all right now my Elfstone… I have you now. And there are worse ways to pass; at least, you are not alone… I would save you… if only I could!" Her head bowed, her lips against his forehead, holding him to her. Not letting him see the way she shook, not letting him see the Orcs watching them, not letting the Nine harm him more. He breathed deep, and let out a gentle sigh… the hand holding her arm went limp. It fell to the ground, lank, lifeless.

She let him slide to the earth, watched his form land on its side. Watched the wound drip tainted. Watched the hand that had held her become hidden by the dust. There came a shuffling, as if afraid to interrupt the scene the Orcs held back, the Nine ceased to mourn, even the Eye of fire turned for a moment to see what had happened to cause such silence.

She stood, tall, proud, glorious among the filth and blood. Eyes clear and head held high, a beacon, a shining light, the beauty of the Evenstar. Then as if a breeze had blown, she swayed and fell. The orcs and Nine advanced, the elves cried out, men and dwarfs pushed forward. Suddenly all fell still again. The ring that had formed gazed upon the ground, the eagles circled silently above. She lay still, eyes still open and clear, neck arched, ...as one gazing to the heavens.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Murazor stepped into the path, it was black, and his boots made little sound as they scraped the even floor below. His steps did not falter when all the light had faded, when the gateway behind him shut, or when another one opened before him. But then he froze, _(what is this! This is… nothing I have seen before_…) a large building of red stone stood behind him, and stretching out under his feet was a great black slab of earth, almost like hardened magma though Mt. Doom was nowhere in sight. There were lines of yellow painted upon it, and great hunks of metal filled some of them. It was dark, there were lights a distance off, they almost seemed to be Elfin in their color. Murazor hissed…_(This is wrong, and I cannot seek direction from elves…)_

Laughter, unmistakably mortal, drifted on the wind. He turned silently, lowered his head and sniffed deep. _…Men…exactly what is needed here_… He moved swiftly, boots clanking loudly enough to embarrass him on the strange ground below. When grass appeared he stepped onto it gratefully and continued along. The sound grew louder, and a fence stood between him and going on. He paused, studying the strange wire work that made it. _(…Why bother with such a thing? any intent on passing it could do so with ease! Wherever I stand, this is a foolish time.)_ He leapt, clearing it easily, then cried out and crumpled holding his leg in pain. (Fool! I had forgotten!) There came the sound of doors opening, of men and women speaking in hushed voices. The lodging before him lay still. The windows empty. He moved across the soft grass, puzzled as to why it grew so well here and so coarsely where he had trod before.

The voices were louder; he came around the house and paused. Men there were indeed, too young to have seen more than their first battle. And women to, who displayed themselves in strange garments that forced him to wonder if a war had indeed been fought. They wore tight leggings of shiny black or dusty blue, chemises of all colors torn and faded. Or, if not torn and faded, so little of them that they barely served their purpose. They seemed to know each other well; the men behaved as drinking companions, and the women… it seemed safe to assume they knew them well. Either that, or they did not realize it was unseemly to sit in a young man's lap.

One spotted him, blinked, and grinned. "Hey there! This is new! Never seen something like you before! Dave! Cal! Are you seeing this?" Two others looked over, the women seemed uninterested.

"Dude, if you're seeing what I'm seeing, than cha. Way weirded out man…what was that shit?"

The other started laughing. "Who cares what it was man? Its good shit!" Murazor hissed, this had turned from strange to puzzling, and that was swiftly turning to annoying.

_Speak now, or the Eye will hold your words for all time… where is this… and when._

They blinked at him, Dave turned to the other, "like I said man…weird shit." He nodded, and then looked the wraith lord over. "So you wanna talk? Okay. What you want?"

_(Enough is enough, I have not the time for these fool mortals.)_ He unsheathed his blade, and laid it upon the throat of the one closest._ …Answer what I wish to hear, or I slay him._ The one in question seemed baffled, actually reaching up to touch the blade and wincing as it cut him.

"Dude! He's real!" instantly all changed, the group uttered strange oaths and leapt to their feet, fleeing down the paths into the darkness. The wraith leaned over his captive…

_Answer me…now._

_**The Forest**_

Gandalf watched the portal close. (I can only hope it leads where it ought to, and if not, he has sense enough to find his way back…) The clouds grew thicker, and rain began to fall. (Lost or not, hurry wraith! Hurry!)


	17. Chapter 16

Merry and Pippin looked down into the heart of Mordor and trembled. The scene was like nothing they had ever witnessed before. The Orcs were sleeping, or eating, and what they were eating was somewhat…questionable… it did not soothe their fears that the dead men were no longer where they had lain. The fell beasts had returned to their pits, the Nazgul to their dark tower.

…The Eye was quiet, unmoving, as if focused inside the tower itself, trying to return spirit to the remaining Nine. The Mouth was absent as well; he had disappeared up the path to Mount Doom not long ago.

"…Do you think we have a chance, to get to them, I mean. That's a bellyful of evil minions down there."

Pippin nodded. "Aye, we must! Gandalf isn't here for now, so it's up to us I suppose. Do you think their all right?"

Merry looked troubled. "There's no way to know till we find them, the Eye doesn't have the ring yet, I don't think, so they must be somewhere." Both fell still, as did all the Easterlings and Orcs, the trolls ceased to move. A wraith had emerged from the black tower. His aura blew sharp and icy, tangible even where the hobbits crouched. He spoke,

_**Srinkh-…**_

_Gather…_

_**fauthûrz izubu pizdur. Matûrz izubu kranklûk…**_

_Our captain is hidden. Our brother is dead…_

_**Matum ukmash brus-, rad… –izg nork- gashn…**_

_Death has them both, so now…I assume command…_

There was a mixed reaction, some cheered, and the trolls did not care either way. Many Easterlings seemed wary and most Orcs were silent, but none protested, and the hobbits did not stir. The wraith seemed faded for a moment, as if something far greater had taken up residence in him and shone threw with the screech,

_**Naan Nazg koz- kul-!**_

_But the Ring is near!_

_**U ghaash urbhaar –uk… -ishi Nazg kul- izubu! **_

_To the mountain all… the ring is ours!_

There came from all a great shout and the masses began to run, heading up and over stones and others, who were not fast enough to get out of the way in their rush to the mountain of fire. The Eye shone to the summit, there, at the very peak, another light was shining. "…Do you think it's safe to move now?"

Merry turned, "No, but now's as good a time as any!"

**Mordor, The Black Gates**

Gandalf moved silently, leaning heavily on his staff. He passed the black gates unnoticed, there were none standing guard. He passed twisted forms, so warped one could not tell dwarf from man from elf, all in shreds. Some lay sprawled down, others seemed to be grasping for something, anything to hold, to give comfort in those last painful moments… Horses, eagles, trolls and orcs, scattered across the ground. And there…

His step faltered for a moment, he stood looking down upon them.

They had been speared together, the great black things through their throats and feet, as if they were to be carried off like wild game. But she was still beautiful, and he, noble. "…Oh my friends…" the hands trembled, then tightened, and the head bowed in silence. "…To see it all die…can there be one less fortunate than I now? To see all fall, and still stand… to see those I cared so deeply for… Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Boromir, Faramir… And I fear Samwise and Frodo…" The fires of Mt. Doom glowed, a roar rumbled from its depths. "…Frodo, I failed you most of all…"

There was a groan, a rasp. Gandalf raised his head, and the eyes clouded. "I had nearly forgotten you, old friend…" Shadowfax tossed weakly, rasped again, his eyes locked to the wizards. They seemed to scream at him, 'help me! Help me old one! Did I not always bear you faithfully? Help me!' He pushed his neck in desperation against the steel barbed ropes that held him, screaming till his throat convulsed and nothing emerged but blood. The wizard could only stand still, tears in his eyes, unable to free the proud beast as it strangled itself to death.

**Mount Doom**

Frodo watched the forces of Mordor advance, a fire in his eyes, the ring glowing upon his hand. _"I'll kill them all if they try to take you from me, they don't deserve you, He doesn't deserve you. Just you and I, from now until all times end. Just me and preciousss."_


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Indur did not follow the others. He watched them go coldly; he was a god of ice among his kind, and now his mind and heart were hardened. …Nothing, nothing the Eye could say, or implore, or promise, was reaching him... His band burned like a Balrog, but he did not stir. Instead he alone sat upon the gate of Mordor, what mattered victory to him now? When it would only be the beginning of an eternity of grief…

They were nine; their rings were nine, a unit, a force of one. And now…now two were gone, gone… it made everything worthless…

His eyes shut; memories… a wraith's lifeblood are their memories… The Black tower at night, the battlements flying.  
The Nine stood together, Indur stood protectively by Murazor's side.  
The first battle field, when the Wraith Lord had fallen below enemy steeds, thrown from his own mount. Indur was tossed as well, rolling to the ground, afraid, frozen, a horse flailed above him, striking down…  
The flash of blade, Murazor between him and the hooves, braced against his sword with the tip vanished into the creature's chest. Indur's eyes opened, watching the greater wraith throw the beast backwards, though his own robes showed trample marks.  
The head turned, the eyes caught his…

Dark nights wandering the bridges of Mordor, the feel of another falling into silent step beside him…

…Head bowed before the Eye, fading as time passed… losing himself in the fire…

…The battle at Weathertop, He held them back, sensing the treat to himself even as he had stabbed forward, while telling the others of danger…

…The river rose over them as the elf chanted, but still he sat firm upon his steed, facing the waves…

…Pelannor fields…

Indur opened his eyes, shoulders trembling beneath the robes. (…_Murazor_…) he closed his eyes again, feeling the others move further up the mountain to follow fates cold road, into what? Victory? _(Is there, is there such a thing…)_

He shook, could he continue like this? Out of his lord's touch, out of his comfort? That comfort now could only seem a mockery to the memory of Murazor. But where to go? To stay? To leave, and never answer the Eye's summons? …No, his will would weaken and fade, exhaustion of mind and form would bring him back, as it had before. He would be Sauron's for all time. Something was aching deep inside him, a memory of what he once had been, and could have been. A king concerned for preserving his people's way of life. His future, so free, …so wasted…

He hissed, eyes like black ice opening as he watched the wizard passed through, unchallenged, he made no move. _(Let the old one enter, all will meet their end here.)_ He watched as the wizard moved about the dead, as he stopped to gaze at the fallen hopes, to gaze into those eyes… then he took a grating breath as he watched the wizard approach the white beast, nearly slain, watched the wizards meager light grow even smaller as the horse bled. _(…Such a sad thing a wizard… when all light has gone…)_ Something tightened painfully in his throat; he rose, watched as the beasts struggles began to falter. Something was twisting him, the part preserved deep inside from his mortal days tearing at its confines, both terrifying and thrilling. Red blurred his vision. His breaths grew sharp to his own ears, and he cold feel the shriek welling up inside…

Watching the horses flail, watching Murazor fade…

_Enough!_

He leapt from the battlement. Blasting out with his glacier touch, wilting the ropes with his power so that they snapped like twine. The beast collapsed, sides heaving, eyes shut. _Enough! Too much! …I have seen… too much!_ He knelt beside the beast, laying his hands tenderly under its head. His form shook, shuddered, a mind long sleeping taking its first true look in countless years at the world around it, and the world within. …_I have seen men die, orcs, elves, dwarfs, demons and even birds. …I have seen torture and fire, ice and starvation… I have been stabbed, shot, trampled. I have fled, and raced to the field… I… have been a fool…_

His head bowed, touching it to the great beasts stained mane. _Wizard… I have seen all die over countless years, and I, have seen myself die as well… how can you fall wizard, as I fell? Into despair… it began so, and now it ends as such …I have lost my brothers, and in them, a part of myself… my lord's voice gives me no comfort! I am too bitter to stomach it! I cannot think, I cannot act! I am dead with my…with his loss…_

_I wish… I wish only we had died before we had become, this, this… …_

Gandalf stood still, watching shocked as the hood bowed, the hands cradled the horses head to its bosom. (This wraith… is trying to comfort us… and seek comfort in return…) gently, gently, Gandalf reached out and lay his hand upon the wraiths shoulder. "…thank you, for your kindness. I could not free him." Indur's form shook once, a tremor, a shudder, then relaxed into the wizards touch.

_I could not bear… I could not…_

Gandalf nodded, and knelt beside him. "…I feared for a moment, that hope was lost. But you have proven otherwise my friend, …and it warms me to see it."

One steel covered hand reached up, and lay over the wizards own. _…I grow weary, white one… I fear this was never my road to travel… and my heart, what little there may remain… is hurting me…_

Gandalf placed his other hand there, holding the gauntlet between his palms. A silent sign of comfort, needing no words, and the eyes that looked up into his were filled with; one could not call it hope, for some creatures are beyond that. But they held silence, and a quiet peace. …_Wizard, now, while there is still time, reach into me, for I know you can if I allow it. Reach in, and sever the ties that hold me. Let me rest… and buy your friend his time. _Gandalf opened his mouth to protest, but the wraiths eyes silenced him. _It is your only way… to gain the time you need… they go to the mountain, and they know the Ring is there… stop my brethren through me… the armies will go no farther. Let me do this… as my final choice._

The wizard closed his eyes, and reached deep into himself to find the strength, even as his own heart wished it to elude him. His eyes opened again… "This is your choice…is this your wish? I, I do not want to do this, Indur…" The wraith closed his eyes, curled his hand one last time in the great beast's mane. His other squeezed the wizards hand gently.

_End it… I will not be myself long, he will twist me again. It is time.…forgive me, my brethren. But I cannot let all die… it is not, who I was…_

_And I… I cannot believe it is what you wanted…_

Under the gates of death, Ji Indur passed into the shapeless realms. His robes crumpled, the gauntlet dangled empty from the wizards hands. Gandalf placed it gently beside the rest, his eyes raised upward, in wonder, and hope.

Twilight and shadow…  
How sweet they sing…  
Lost, is all the glory…  
Faded, is the king…


	19. Chapter 18

Murazor's head shot up, feeling something… dragging him, what was that pull? It almost had Indur's feel… had he been reaching out? With a hiss he turned his attention back to the mortal below him. This was enough, more than enough. Eight wrong passages...this, should not be this difficult. Though it did seem with each mistake he was going farther back…

First, the strange world of hard black roads and scantly dressed women. Then the other world where men were shooting strange round balls from handheld sticks. _(What had been going on in that one?) _It seemed they were fighting for something, though the flags bore no symbols he knew. Then there was the boat incident, with multicolored tan men slashing at each other as they boarded one another's ships. Did not stay to investigate, too strange, too many beads and sashes. Then, that strange land where he had been taken to the lord of the masses, it seemed they wanted him to kill the king. Did not stay long there either, picked up strange new name. Black Knight? Not worth thinking of, and now this… this… mess.

The man lay with nothing more than a white sash for cover, he could feel the weather was warm. There was also a torch he had been carrying in his hand, now it lay extinguished at his feet. _(A descendent of the Easterlings, perhaps? He has the look of it more than others I have seen…) Speak plain, and you may live… when is this…_

The mortal shuddered, but did not look away. His eyes were still frightened, but it seemed an understanding had settled in them. "We are when we are, Lord Hades, and tomorrow we will be then, but you will be always."

The Witch King shook his head. _(And again, I am mistaken for what I am not…) _he reached down, lifting the mortal so their gazes met. _Tell me, if these words are familiar to you… Rohan, Mordor, Minas Tirith, Minas Morgul, Sauron, Morgoth, the Valar? …do you know these… _

The human shook his head, "I have not heard these before, ever, forgive me lord."

A disgusted hisss… he let the man drop. The ring around his finger ached, calling him back, calling… _( I run my time short… when I do return, if I am back far enough, we will speak of this wizard…) _He recalled the portal to him, and without another look at the proud world of Greece, passed through.

**Mordor, Mount Doom**

Merry and Pippin moved quickly ahead of the army, feet scraping over the sharp stones as they neared the mountain of fire. "You know… I do think they're still alive!" Pippin panted under his breath as he kept pace with him.

"What makes you so sure? Not that I don't want to believe it!" Merry gasped and fell a little behind, he caught up in a moment.

"Well… see the logic in this! What would be the point of sending an entire army after dead men?"

Pippin laughed, even though he was shaking. "There, you have me!" The cries from behind, the lamenting of the Nine, spurred them to run faster. Grief is swift to turn to anger. The slope grew steeper, the rocks larger and closer together, the air more foul. Nearly broken from the climb both stood gasping for breath outside the entrance. A reddish mist seemed to seep from within, mixed well with soot and smoke.

"Well…we… at least, we beat the army… I think." Merry looked down, "I…wheeze, I don't see anything…" A soft sound came from behind them, Pippin whirled around.

"…Frodo? Frodo!"

**Mordor, The Black Gate**

Gandalf rose from the ground, head up though there was pain in his eyes. Shadowfax pushed himself to his feet as well. "Time is short old friend… time is short…" In the distance the wraiths shrieked, the trolls bellowed.

The air crackled and burned, both moved back a pace as a portal snapped up before them. Murazor emerged, looked around, eyes burning and fists clenched hard enough that the gauntlets were cracking. He reared back his head to shriek his frustration… stopped. Looked down…

_Indur…_ his knees shook, buckled, with a trembling hand he reached out, took one gauntlet from the ground.

Gandalf sighed, "You should not have seen this, and must still go farther back Dark one…" A blade of frosted iron shrieked from its scabbard and stopped upon his throat.

…_Wizard… you destroyed him! _It was not a hiss; it was a scream, raw, cold, and empty. Gandalf held firm.

"He requested it of me, to slow the others, to buy time, time for us, for you! And you are wasting it! Go! Before the Eye feels you!" His hands seized the blade as it slashed forward, a cry fell from his lips as the flesh of his palms split. "Go Murazor! Let us die here if we must! You must return! Go now!" The wraith screamed, ripping the blade free and swinging it high… he stood that way, panting, hissing, the blade raised above the others head until he threw back his head and laughed, letting it fall from his grasp.

_I want to kill you! I want it more than I have ever wanted anything wizard! …And I cannot, there it is plain, I cannot! _His laughter strained, the eyes shut, a shudder shook him, _So instead I take a life more precious to me… and I will take it soon. We have both seen to that. But I will not forget wizard, I will not forget, and never, never will I forgive._

He drew forward, placing one gauntlet under the White wizard's chin, slicing just deep enough to draw blood, watching the wizard's eyes. _I will also never be forgiven, his death, now falls on me as well. _

Gandalf drew back slightly, "…Murazor, fallen king of Númenór, may the Valar somehow find pity for you…" The wraith winced, and pulled away, eyes glowing.

_May thy tongue always bring thou the pain it gives others, wizard, of the Valar._

…I don't want this pain…  
I've heard all these lies,  
What more do you want from me?  
Time grows short, and fly's…

I have fallen far this night,  
Further than most men can go.  
Now I fall again, my friend…

And I!  
Don't care what the dawn may bring!  
I!  
Lost all feeling years ago!  
Now,  
I seem to have lost myself,  
Alone again and empty…

I!  
Have nothing left to gain!  
Yet,  
I am still fighting here…  
Why?  
Must you mock me so?  
I,  
Would rather feel your fear…

…Than pity…


	20. Ending and Begining

Gandalf winced, but did not break eye contact. "…You do not mean that, I sense it old one, I sense it. I would ease your pain… but you would never allow it. Nay, were you to struggle a thousand years more you would never bear my touch, nor seek my words. …you alone make yourself dead to me, not I." A hand reached out, the wraith lord recoiled with a snarl, eyes blazing, yet dead at the same time. "…let it pass Murazor… let go of this hate, it will not protect you, nor serve you in your final breaths. Let it go."

A hush, Gandalf raised his head, to gaze toward the eye, his own grew wide. "…fly you fool… fly!"

The Eye sat frozen, its gaze on them. Gandalf cried out as he was thrown back, hitting the steed behind him, Shadowfax screamed and pawed the sky.

Murazor stood still, his ring calling out to the fire; he fell, his cry echoing on the unforgiving stones. Fire, all the world was fire… Annatar stood before him. Hair blowing gently, hand on the fallen cheek. It burned, all burned… A cold burn. The palm turned rough, the fingers became talons of black steel, the face faded into a helm of death. The fingers brushed him again, the talon's tips ripped his cheek. Murazor shut his eyes, _Kill me, if you will… I will not bow again… you, were never my better, instead were my lesser from the moment Morgoth touched you… such a fool my lord…we have been such fools… _

Laughter, the claw withdrew, and all was fire again. The Eye shone balefully down upon him, the Ring rang a note in his soul. They were there, his brethren reaching out for him…_ Never again! They died for you! I will not let that have been wasted! They were mine! As I am mine! _Hushed laughter, gulls screaming as ships burned in the night, Númenór in flames, dancing red in the sky…

…**_You can not undo what was done…you think to redeem yourself? Fool…weak fool…you were not worthy for the greatest of the iron rings! _**Murazor hissed, icy, almost painful.

…_That may be true, I was not. But you would have found none better; it is both my pride and my shame. _His eyes opened, looking into Annatars own,_ …I would serve you… I would follow for all of time if I no longer felt, if I no longer thought, if my own heart failed me again…_His hand reached out and took the Miar's hand between his. Watching as it swam between his fingers, warping from blazing tendril to armor of onyx, to flesh again._ … You were wild, and unfettered by rules of mortal and man. You drew me, your freedom seemed to mock me, and so for a time…  
_The hand grabbed his throat, Murazor winced, choked. _**I set you free as well**. _The wraith struck out, ripping threw the nonexistent hand, the fire melting the transparent semblance of flesh from his bones.

_But you chained me then! Locked me so far from all else that I never felt anything but your pride, and hate… the mistake, was yours, and I will never again bend to you! Slay me! I am dead to you now! As are all my brethren!_

He felt the hand fall, watching as it lost form entirely, as it faded. Sauron's enraged form leapt at him.  
Pain as the talons ripped his throat, his chest, his heart, trying to reach his ring, to bind him through it. With a roar Murazor ripped it free from his flesh. They watched it fall… Murazor shrieked in both triumph and pain as it vanished into the dust, fought to keep from reaching out at its loss.

A scream lingered, high and deafening, **_Then fall! Fool! You will never see the sun or your precious seas again! It matters not if you wear your ring! It is part of you! And You Die Mine! _**All fell still. The fire was gone, blackness swept in to take its place. Pain, dull pain, his eyes closed. It felt… strange… Vertigo set in, the world was spinning…

A crunch as he landed on his side, shuddering, shivering. He had been cold, as long as he could recall his form had been cold… but it felt now as if he had been taken from a pool of ice, and all the blood was starting to rush back to his limbs. Stinging pain, and a sense of drifting…  
His gauntlets began to sink through his hands to the rock below.

_(No… not like this… I will not die like this!)_

The world slammed back around him, the ground was scraping his side. Dazed, he pulled up, staggered to his feet, stood. He screamed out his farewell, screamed out his challenge to fate itself if it dared to stand against him. The portal ripped the mountain in half and he leapt…

**Pelannor Fields, The worlds End**

As the blade drew near the helm, and the entire of the field watched and held its breath, the small hobbit trembled as he felt his grip on the dagger slipping…

It pulled free. With a shriek of pain and rage the dark captain whirled, but at the last moment turned to face his foe, Reaching to swing his mace. A crack like thunder as Eowyn's blade slid cleanly into the helm.

The Witch king fell to his knees, and then forward. An empty robe lay at the shield maiden's feet.

The pendulum of time shook, and began to swing forwards again…

The wraiths cried out, the armies trembled and began to run.  
Aragorn appeared, lead the armies of Rohan and Minas Tirith ride to the land of Mordor.  
The creature Gollum fell into the fires of Mt. Doom.  
The ring was destroyed.  
The eagles flew the hobbits home.  
Aragorn and Arwen were married upon the summit of the seven rings of Minas Tirith.  
...Night falls… … … …

**Epilogue**

…The Nazgul stood at ready, their charger's hot breath rising in the evening mists. They were armed to do battle, with an enemy that was no longer there. The Eye of Sauron had fallen; the ruins of the tower where it had stood were all that remained as a testament to the horror that had been Mordor.  
In the silence, one moved forward, pushing aside rocks and ancient walls to reach the cracked doorway. He faced the others, his breath frosting the stone.

_"...There is, nothing left worth saving..." _

One by one the others dismounted and came to his side,_"... we have no choice... we must move on." _The eyes of the eight lowered._"We cannot ... it is pointless... we must fade..." _Without the Dark Lord to guide their thoughts, a terrible emptiness had penetrated their tattered minds, no longer capable of emotion, but able to sense its absence."_ We are no longer complete... ... we are... only eight now..."  
_With Burning eyes the riders turned away from the ruins, moving back to their mounts and not once looking back._ "We must find the Witch King... And become nine once more, then... ..."_ Their shrieks rang out as they rode forth to Gondor, echoing in the night and filling the skies with their hoof beats thunder.

Indur whirled his horses head, and stopped as he saw something glitter in the dirt. He dismounted, bent down and pulled the thing from the stones and dust. The ring shone dull silver in the light, its stone glowed softly.

(_…Murazor…)_ He leapt upon the steed, spurred it to catch the others. His shriek echoing on the walls of stone… into the silence…


	21. Bloopers and Outtakes

**Twisted Fate: Out-takes and _Bloopers_.**

Scene #1, dramatic shot:  
Khamul reaches out to pull Murazor into the saddle, the fell beasts wing catches on the ground and both Nazgul fall. The fell beast flies off frightened.  
**Khamul:** … _SSssssssiiiiggghhhh….  
_**Murazor:** _…In pain… lots of pain…_

Gandalf and a Troll in the Ruins of Minis Tirith:  
**Gandalf:** "What's my motivation right now?"  
**Troll:** "You're dead..?"  
**Gandalf:** "You know, I do hear that a good deal…"

Scene #3, Riding for Mordor/ Listening to Their Taking the Hobbits to Isengard:  
**Gimli:** What is it Elf? You see something?  
**Legolas:** He has headphones on, he starts laughing, when he sees Gimli's face he laughs harder. By the time Aragorn looks at him he's shaking.  
**Gimli:** Are you all right Elf?  
**Legolas:** Still laughing. "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"  
**Aragorn:** "…What?"  
**Legolas:** "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"  
**Gimli:** "What did he say?"  
**Aragorn:** "Oh not again. No Legolas, no they're not."  
**Gimli:** "Taking the hobbits to Isengard?"  
**Legolas:** "They're taking the hobbits to Isenguard!"  
**Gimli:** To Aragorn. "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"  
**Aragorn:** Giving up. "Stupid fat Hobbits."

Scene #5, Hunting the Ring-bearer:  
Khamul and Adunaphel run dramatically down the obsidian hallway, they stop, look out the window. Frodo falls screaming from above and takes out Khamul.  
**Adunaphel:** _Not good! Not good!_

Commentary between Mouth and Khamul, behind the Scenes:

**Mouth:** _"What do you have against me anyway?"  
_**Khamul:** _Eh?  
_**Mouth:** "You avoid me, and are generally unpleasant when I walk in."  
**Khamul:** _…Care for a mint?  
_**Mouth:** _"…Ah."  
_**Eye of Sauron:** _"**Oh sure… He believes it when you say it**!" _

Scene # 8, Commentary between Aragorn and Hobbits:  
**Aragorn:** "I know not where the wraith has gone, but he will surely retaliate when he discovers this. I leave now for Mordor, but pray thee, follow another road. I will feel better… if I know at least someone is safe."  
**Merry:** "Will, will we see you again Strider? Will we, see anyone, again?"  
**Aragorn:** lowers his head. "…What would you have me say?"  
Marry and Pippin looked at each other.  
**Pippin:** "Um… Yes? Common Aragorn, way to depress the hobbits!"  
**Legolas:** Running by, "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"  
**Aragorn:** Yells after him. "I'm going to take that CD away!"

Mirror malfunctions, Murazor's memories:  
Three strait minutes of Murazor trying to read the inscription on the mirror. First up close, then far away, from the front, from the side…  
**Murazor:** _Crap…_  
**Gandalf:** "What's the problem?"  
**Murazor:** _Let's see you read tiny print when you can only see in shadows..._

Mirror Malfunctions, Murazor's memories 2:  
Murazor, wearing reading glasses on his helm, face a few inches from the mirror.  
**Murazor:** _Ah… I don't understand it…  
_**Gandalf:** "But you can read it?"  
**Murazor:** _Does it say, Property of Warner Brothers Studio, Orlando Florida?_  
**Gandalf:** "…no…"  
**Murazor:** _Then no._

Black speech trouble:  
For reason's still completely known, Akhorahil is not fluent in the Black Speech. This was made clear several times…  
**Akhorahil:**_ "Fauthûrz izubu pizdur. Uf izubu kranklûk…"**  
**_What that means: _Our captain is hidden. Our brother is frightening…  
(Laughter)  
_**Akhorahil Tries again: **_"Fauthûrz izubu pizdur.__ throquûrz izubu kranklûk…"  
_What that means: _Our captain is hidden. Our brother is edible…  
(Laughter)  
_**Akhorahil's last try: **_"Fauthûrz izubu pizdur. Lob izubu kranklûk…"**  
**_What that means: _Our captain is hidden. Our brother is a female…  
(Hysteria)  
_**Akhorahil: **_Why can't Dwar say this line! No one can tell us apart!_

Scene # 2, Mission from the Eye:  
Murazor walks over side of Black Tower, however, the Fell beast is not in position.  
**Murazor:** _AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhh!_

Scene #4, Hunted:  
Aragorn bends down beside river to drink. Dramatic music as the Fell beast lowers behind him, jaws stretching out to bite…  
(Merry and Pippin have had pony trouble, they aren't there.)  
**Aragorn:** As Fell beast nips him in the rump, "YEOWCH!"  
**Witch King:**_ HAHAHAHAhahahahaha! Hehehee! Oh, oh hey, hehehe… you all right?_

Collected, 'What's my Line?' Moments.  
Sometimes these things just happen… Personally, I blame it on sleep deprivation.

**Aragorn: **"TO MORDOR! AND FROM THERE, TO… where again? Line?"**  
Murazor: **_One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them… I really think you should include that somewhere, that is the point of everything._  
(And so we did, here)**  
Khamul:**_ …If that be so… then repair it… cause… I said so, yesss… Line?_**  
Murazor:**_ "Izg lat iist-... golug…agh ufur- nar iist-…narash… … …Ssssssiiggghhhh… Line?"_**  
The Mouth:** "_I, am the mouth of Sauron. Um… say something. No, Line?"_**  
Frodo:** "They're everywhere Sam… how will we get… … Line?"**  
Pippin: **"My pony ate my script, so this could be a little rough…Um, Gandalf! Something-something-something… Script?"  
**Samwise:** "…He's, no threat to, us now?"… "… …What? Is there more?"**  
Gimli:** "I am Gimli! Son of Glóin, and I… we… … …Line? Oh wait, that was it wasn't it, eh? Ah well."**  
Gandalf:** "…Torn to pieces? I must… oh darn. Line?"**  
Gandalf:** "…We took a gamble when she struck at the Witch King. Had it only succeeded… but now the rest have mud in their eyes… Oh drat."**  
Murazor:**_ From my lord you drew me! In the blackness of a centuries sleep you… Set me free! Yes! No, really, Line?_**  
Stoned Dude:** "Dude… um… yeah… these colors are rocking my socks man… zzzzzzzz"  
**Mouth:** "…_I see, a mortal king whose time… an elf who fled from the Orcs of Mordor? …A Dwarf! I see a Dwarf! This speech is too long, Lines? Any lines at all?"_**  
Mouth:** _"**We think So! …Not! We think not! Augh!"**_**  
Gandalf:** "…It does not have to be. I know you heed me not, but listen! For our time, both yours and mine, grows short. Will you help them? Fallen one! Will you raise up your sword for the land once more, as you did when you were new! Sauron will destroy all if he is not hindered, even his own, …he cares not for you, and you know it, don't you. … … …**What? That's it? I finally had something creative happening! Darn you Nazgul! You don't give me enough to talk about!** No, no, I'm fine, I'm calm."

Finale, Black Breath blooper:  
(We are Family) song blasts in the background as the entire cast dances, slowly the humans, dwarfs, hobbits and elves start to drop like flies. Then the orcs, trolls, and Wizard.  
Alone on the field the Wraiths look around confused. The Mouth of Sauron descends from the tower and holds out a small box.  
**Mouth of Sauron:**_ "Mint?"  
_**Nazgul:**_ Ah…  
_**Khamul:** Sarcastic._ Hahaha.. Oh, you kill me MOS, You really do…_


End file.
